Sacrifice
by Noxid Anamchara
Summary: Carol fights to keep Daryl from going back to the man he used to be. The man he was at the hands of his brother. Maryl
1. Home

**Nox:** Hello my geeks - in every sense of the word! I bring you this, the scars of _Maryl_. Or, as it rings through me, the resonant feelings that echo from _them_. It's a slow build, like ripples on water. So I hope you'll stay awhile and see where it goes.

**Disclaimer**: The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.

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Home

It was hard to watch him through the chain link fence. He was there, just in her reach, but she couldn't touch.

The world was playing a cruel joke on her. First it takes out Axel, who she was growing fond of. He was a simple man, was able to make her smile when she hadn't felt like she could. When the one person she had wanted to be there, _wasn't_.

Because he'd chosen to _leave_.

Then by some miracle or luck, they'd come back. They'd _come back._

There was nothing to be happy about though. Daryl and Rick were locked outside the gate, out _there_, where it was unsafe. Away from the group, in the middle of the herd of walkers.

Away from _her_.

It was starting to become a physical pain in her stomach, the ache of watching them pace out there. Trying to figure out how to get inside.

Never mind the fact that they had to kill each and every walker that came within distance. She knew Rick didn't have any bullets left in his gun, because he'd not been using it. Was probably best that he didn't use it either, so they didn't attract the attention.

And Merle, he was throwing his weight around like he was important. But he wasn't actually _doing _anything. She could see it from here. Daryl was doing most of the killing, taking out walkers left and right. Rick was tiring quickly, his body slow. Merle was just being a lazy asshole.

And they were just sitting there, watching them. Not doing _anything_.

"We can let him in," Glenn argued from behind her, for the _sixth_ time. She clutched the metal links tightly, and grit her teeth. They'd been arguing about it for the past two hours and it was starting to give her a headache. If there was one thing she'd learned, it was that when they argued, it got them nowhere.

_It got them dead with their pants around their ankles._

But she wasn't going to wait around anymore for them to suck up their pride and get them back in here.

It was Rick. It was _Daryl _for god's sake. They shouldn't even be debating it. Didn't matter what one more person made. She knew what Merle had done, but to condemn Rick and Daryl to a fate that they all thought _Merle_ deserved was outrageous. It was against what they did as _humans_.

She wasn't going to stand for it.

"We can't just leave them out there son," Hershel countered back, shifting on his crutches. Maggie went over and helped him to one of the bleachers, guiding him there. He never took his eyes from Glenn's, his gaze steady.

They were the only two fighting about it now. Maggie had given up trying to reason with Glenn. The moment she'd tried to say anything, he'd give her this look, and what had passed between the two was something only they both understood.

Beth had run back inside to check on Jude and Carol had left her to it. She couldn't stop from looking at _him_, just waiting there.

Carl had tried to enter the conversation but he was quickly over-talked. She felt bad for him. Rick was out there, and no one was even thinking about that.

She had to admit, neither was she.

"But it's _Merle_. We let him in, and we're asking for trouble. What he did, what he let happen…" Hershel sighed, and rubbed his hand along his face.

She had no doubt that Merle deserved a fate worse than some walkers dinner. But that wasn't something for them decide. He'd come back with Daryl, he'd saved Rick. He'd made a choice to face his fate.

She couldn't deny, that made her just a little curious about him.

"We can't just leave my dad out there," Carl said softly, eyes peering through the chain links as well. He looked up at her, and she could just see the flash of panic across his eyes.

He'd been doing so much with his father gone, and even now, he was trying to keep his head above water. Trying not to be scared for what the group might ultimately decide.

"But if we bring Merle in here, we can't push him out again. Once he's in, he's-" She turned on her heel, the anger and the adrenaline from before hitting her in a flash. She wasn't going to sit there and let Rick and Daryl suffer because of one man's sins. She wasn't going to let one boy be pushed around because they couldn't suck up their insecurities and _deal with it. _

"Then we deal with it," she barked. "Rick and Daryl are out there," she said, pointing to their distant figures pacing against the fence. She could just barely make out their voices, the distinct difference between Rick and Merle making her nervous.

Daryl was hanging back, letting Merle and Rick dance it out. She didn't like the way he did that, let Merle lead the way. Daryl had grown so much while he was with them, had become so strong.

And now that Merle was back, it was suddenly apparent just what was going to happen to him now.

He was going to _change._ Change back into who he used to be.

"And we aren't going to let them die out there by some _goddamn _walkers," she breathed, letting the curse fall from her lips in anger, the feeling good, "or get captured or killed by the Governor because we think we can't _deal_ with Merle Dixon. He's a _man_ for god's sake. Not a damn demon." And she gripped the rifle in her hand, turned away from them all and headed for the gate where the walkers had started to congregate. She was done playing this game.

"Carol, wait!"

She kept walking, ignoring Glenn running up behind her.

"What if Merle starts a fight, what if he-" She turned her head sharply, glaring at Glenn now. She was serious, when she meant she wasn't going to wait any longer. She was going to get them inside the prison, even if she had to do it by herself.

"What if he what's Glenn? Shoves another walker on you? Attempts to hurt Maggie or Beth? Tries to kill Jude?" She stopped at the gate, the walker hands reaching in, trying to grab hold of her. Glenn pursed his lips, not taking his eyes from her. She could feel the others just behind them, watching, waiting.

"We're all _here_ Glenn," she said, throwing her arms out to her sides, the frustration breaking her. "This time, we can protect _each other_." He still didn't look convinced, still looked as if he wanted to leave them out there.

She was still going to throw that gate open whether they were ready for it or not.

"I don't presume to know Merle Dixon," she said, drawing her shoulders up, "but he got what he wanted. _Daryl_." She looked through the fence, her eyes finding Daryl again. He had his head down, gripping the crossbow slung across his chest. She wanted him _inside_. She wanted him back where he _belonged_. Out there, with Merle, he was vulnerable. Out there, she couldn't be with him.

She bit her lip, fisting her hand at her side, nails digging into her palm.

"If there's one thing we all should know it's that family comes first in this godforsaken world. Even for a man like him." She took hold of the lock keeping the gate closed. She slung the gun across her shoulders and pulled her knife out of her pocket, looking at it hard.

"He's not going to jeopardize that, now that he's got it. He came back here, didn't he?" She looked Glenn in the eye. "Even though he knows just how much Michonne wants to kill him? How much _you _want to kill him?" She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently, pleading with him, with her eyes.

She smiled a little. "We're going to have to have a little faith in him, no matter how much we may despise his character. He's Daryl's _family_. And we can't fault him for that." Though she knew that the sins of his past were things he was going to have pay for, were things he was going to have to _make up _for. She wasn't going to let Merle push Daryl around anymore. Wasn't going to let Daryl let Merle stomp all over him.

She'd gotten lucky when the world had taken Ed away from her. And Daryl, well, she wasn't sure what Daryl wanted when it came to Merle. His death, or his life. But either way, she'd make sure that he didn't get his heart trampled in the process.

_They_ were his family now. And it was going to stay that way. No matter what Merle wanted, Daryl was staying. No questions asked.

"What if he hurts Daryl?" Glenn asked softly, sounding like he was trying just one more time to fend off the inevitable.

She felt her shoulders drop, just a little.

The problem was, that he'd already hurt Daryl. She didn't have to hear the words, to see the scars, to hear Daryl say it, to _know_. She could see it in the way he let Merle walk before him, in the way he let Merle talk over him.

She could see it in the way he let his eyes fall to the ground, like he wasn't worthy of holding his head up.

She knew that look, like she knew the backs of her own hands.

Ed had made her feel that way their entire marriage.

That was why she would be there, no matter what. That was why she wanted to get them back inside the prison at all costs. She would help him stand up to Merle, however she could.

"Daryl's got two fists, don't he?" she said, smiling. Glenn watched her, shifted on his feet. He worried his bottom lip, and then grimaced.

"And he's got his family," she said softly, eyes meeting his, telling him with that look that they would _all _be there for him.

Glenn sighed then, throwing up his arms in defeat.

"If he touches one hair on Maggie-" She smiled, grabbing his arm to stop him.

"I think Maggie can handle herself, don't you?" He looked like he was about to say something more, turned back to look at Maggie who was looking at him with raised brows, and then threw his arms up again.

"Fine!" He stomped over to Maggie and took the metal pipe out of her hands, giving her a quick kiss on the lips. She watched them exchange some words, Glenn running his fingers down the side of her cheek. She smiled at him softly, reaching forward to give him another kiss. Just the other day they'd been fighting, and now.

Now it was like the Governor's attack had brought them back together. She only wished it had done the same for her and Daryl.

_Close_, she thought. _So close. _

"It's the right choice son," Hershel nodded, and then started to limp back to the prison, disappearing back inside.

"Let's do this," Carl announced, pulling out his gun, coming to stand next to her. He nodded at her, a flash of gratitude lighting up his eyes.

She smiled and placed her hand over his shoulder, squeezing once. "We'll get him back," she murmured. But she wasn't sure if she was saying it for him, or for herself.

"Alright, we do this, we do it my way," Glenn announced, coming up behind them, Maggie and Michonne following. Carol watched the black woman, her hard eyes narrowed dangerously.

She approached her, calmly.

"Will you be able to do this?" Michonne watched her, silent for a heavy moment, eyes calculating.

"Do I have a choice?" she said evenly, her voice tight.

Carol looked away, back at the others outside the fence, and saw that they were watching them now.

"I suppose not," she said back, turning to face her once more. "I wish…" she had started to say something, but thought better of it. She could see the glint in the woman's eyes, knew it wasn't the right thing to say to her.

She reached out, hesitantly, and touched the woman's arm gently.

"I know what it means, you staying here to fight with us." She pulled away just as fast as she touched her, not wanting to make her any more uncomfortable than she might already be.

"That means a lot to us, even if we may not show it. Means a lot to _me_," she finished, finding those hard eyes again, and seeing something faint in them. Something like understanding.

But the woman just grabbed her sword and approached the gate, ready to face what she looked born to do.

"Let's just get this finished," she said tightly.

Glenn grabbed the lock, the pipe in his other hand.

"Carl, Carol, you bring up the rear. Lock the gate behind you. Maggie, Michonne and I will go first, work our way outward. We stick together. We stay _close_," he said forcefully, meeting each of their eyes. She nodded.

She didn't like the idea of being in the back, but she knew that the others had far more experience, more _strength_ than she did. All that mattered was that she get to him.

All that mattered was that he find his way back home.

Where he belonged.

She gripped the fence, the walker hands sliding over hers, their teeth and moans gnashing in her face. But she didn't care. Just watched him, while he watched them.

"Let's bring them home," she whispered.

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**A/N**: So tell me you think.

_Your reviews would be wonderful. _


	2. Safe

**Nox:** Oh do I love Carol and Merle together. So while Promise might be the best fic I will have ever written, this one may have echoes of it. Please, so many of you have favorited and alerted (like a unique 30 of you) - all it takes is writing something so simple in that little box at the bottom. And you would make me the happiest person on the planet. Do you know that?

_letmefallasleep _- this is for you, because I miss talking. Hope it's good.

**Disclaimer**: The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.

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Safe

He couldn't believe what they were doing. Goddamn fools is what they were. Coming out there in the middle of all them walkers just to get them. Hell they probably left Jude and Beth _alone_ in the damn prison. That pissed him off.

But what really set his teeth on edge was watching _Carol_ patiently take down any walkers that came within her range.

He couldn't deny though, the swell a pride in his chest at the way she took them down without any fear.

He'd given her that.

He heard Merle laugh under his breath behind him. "Dumbasses," he muttered.

Daryl turned on him, glaring. "Those _dumbasses_ are comin' ta save our asses," he barked, feeling the rush of anger swallow him.

Those were _his _people coming for them. They'd made the choice to come out there, in the middle of all this shit, for _them_.

"Hey," Rick called, pulling on his shoulder, pulling him away from what he knew would become another fight if he didn't back off. "Let's help them out," he said behind him, and started walking, catching his gaze as he went passed.

He took a step back, and rolled his shoulders. He couldn't start this shit with Merle now. He followed behind Rick, brushing passed Merle's shoulder.

"Right behind ya brother," he murmured darkly, clapping his hand over the spot where Rick's had just been.

He couldn't help glancing back at the group, his gaze falling on _her_, as his gut twisted.

Carol watched them from out of her peripheral vision. Watched them make their way along the fence, taking out walkers as they went. She thought it would go slow, would kill her to see _him_ just out of reach. But it happened faster than she thought it would. There were so many, and they kept coming in through the gate she was sure they'd never get them all. But they moved through the walkers fast. She waited until each walker came close enough, and then she would reach forward and stab her knife through the part that looked softest. The reassurance of the others at her back kept her calm, made her feel _strong_.

Her hands and arms were covered in thick, black blood by the time they reached the others.

By the time she saw _his_ face.

He looked worn out, and broken down. He had some cuts on his face that she couldn't even guess as to where they'd come from, and his shoulders were hunched as he ran toward them.

"The hell ya'll think your doin'?" He called, rushing forward to meet them, shooting a walker down. Rick followed close on his heels, using the heel of his gun to bash in the head of a walker. Daryl retrieved his arrow, looking around, coming in close.

_So close_.

And Merle, he held back, walking with that easy, cocky gait of his, waiting behind them both. Waiting specifically behind _Daryl_.

She didn't like the way his eyes roamed over them all, calculating, like he was hunting for prey. There was a dangerous aura around him then, and she couldn't place on why.

He checked out Glenn and Carl first, watching their weapons. His eyes moved to Michonne next, lip curled up when he saw her and the sword in her hand.

And then his eyes fell on her, and they narrowed. They watched each other for a moment, and she knew he could tell just what kind of woman she was, if he didn't remember her from the quarry.

When you're wounded, damaged, you always seem to find others who were like you, could recognize them. She knew Merle was no exception to that, no matter how tough he liked to make himself out to be. And he _was_ a broken man, deep inside. She could see that from the way he tried to puff out his chest, by the way he walked. Ed used to have a walk similar to that. But it was his eyes that gave it away, the distance behind them. He was hiding something, just like Daryl always was.

It was that realization that rocked her, making her head spin. He was so much more like Daryl than she had ever thought he would be.

It made her chest clench, for him.

And then Merle's lips tilted up, his grin cocky. "Little brothers right," he crowed, and slammed his metal arm into the walker that had been slowly closing in on him. She grimaced, watching the gruesome scene unfold as black blood and brains oozed over his arm. And then the distance was gone, and the arrogance was back.

"Ya'll a bunch a goddamn fools comin' out here like this," he laughed, cackling high. He couldn't believe that they'd made it this far.

Maybe the crazy-ass black chick, and the Chinaman. And hell, that filly with the small titties and the nice ass weren't too bad with a machete neither. But the kid and the broad with the short hair? That was a fuckin' joke. Bitch was too _old_ to be doin' nothin' but washin' clothes and cookin' him some dinner. And the kid weren't taller than his fuckin' chest. Hell, he'd take the little bastard out with one swing of his arm.

It was a goddamn _joke_ is what it was, his brother callin' _them_ family.

Carol could literally feel the atmosphere around her _change_. Daryl's face twisted, guilt and shame all over him. His chin dropped, eyes cast downward. She felt her chest constrict at that, at the way he fell submissive to Merle like that was his _role_.

Daryl was his own person, had grown into his own man. That he fell in check behind Merle, after they had only been together for a couple days, left her feeling empty inside.

Glenn tensed, the pipe in his hands held dangerously high, as Maggie took a step toward him.

"We came out here to save your sorry ass," he said through clenched teeth, the pipe now shaking in his hand.

Maggie reached down, placing her hand over his. But he jerked away, taking a step away from her, and toward Merle. Michonne went with him, both of them advancing on Merle now.

It was the wrong place to be having this conversation. They were still surrounded by walkers, still in possible danger of the Governor coming back and leading another attack on them. They were tired, they were vulnerable.

They were _weak_.

Rick stepped in, looking more exhausted than she had ever seen him before. He looked like he had been through hell and back.

"This isn't the time for this," he whispered hoarsely, eyes wild. The gun and his hand were all coated in blood, the guts of his last kill hanging from the trigger.

Glenn ignored him, eyes narrowed dangerously. "We could still leave you out here, you stupid hick," he spat cruelly, taking a threatening step forward. Michonne lifted the sword, her eyes never wavering from Merle's form.

"Hey now!" Daryl called, stepping forward, looking unsure of _who_ he wanted to defend.

Merle held his arms up, laughing again, like he didn't care at all. "Never asked fer yer help, _Chinaman_." And Glenn's face dropped, shocked. His fists closed at his sides, tightening, and his face grew red.

"I'm _Korean_," he screamed, and raised the pipe, about to swing for Merle.

Maggie yelled, reaching out to grab Glenn's arm, and Carl looped his fingers through Michonne's belt loops as she raised her sword high, her face pinched in fury.

Daryl felt coiled, wound too tight. He didn't know where to point the crossbow, or if he should draw his knife. Because if he did both, it would be on his people, and he'd not done that in a long fuckin' time.

And it didn't feel _right_.

Especially not when he was suddenly looking at Carol's back, as if she were protecting _him_.

"Enough!" She stood there, breathing hard, the knife in her hand heavy. She gripped it harder, the blood slimy between her fingers. She could feel herself shaking, her chest tight. It was as if her heart were trying to slam its way out of her chest.

"Look at where we're at," she breathed harshly, eyes holding Glenn's. She could feel Daryl behind her, the weight of his stare scorching her. Rick stood beside her, watching, waiting. He was breathing hard, the darkness under his eyes thick. His eyes shifted frantically.

She knew immediately he was in no condition to be out there, to be doing _anything_.

"This is no place to be doing _this_," she could feel her confidence wavering, as her voice cracked. All she wanted to do was turn around and see him. To look at him and make sure he was okay. To tell him, in their own way, that she was there _for him_.

Daryl couldn't believe what she was doing, standing there, standing up to the group. He was fuckin' _proud_ of that.

It was watching her then that he realized just how much he had missed seeing those strong shoulders, that defiant chin. She'd always given them hell, pushed back, even if she thought otherwise.

And then Merle was pushing passed him, giving him that _look_ as he went. He froze, unable to do nothing, but knowing he needed to do something.

He knew that look. Knew just what Merle could do when he was in that mood. He was _pissed_. And he was going for Carol.

Going for the soft spot that he must have seen on his damn face. He was such an _idiot_.

"Bitch is right," and Carol flinched, as an arm fell heavily across her shoulders. Everyone froze, their faces shocked still. She looked up as the smell of sweat, and stink, and _earth_ hit her. Merle stared down at her, eyes glinting and that cocked grin still on his face.

He pulled her closer, his arm wrapped tight around her. His body was rock solid against hers, lean and wiry. Much like Daryl's if she thought about it.

And she could just make out the discolored scar, trailing down his collarbone. One that wouldn't have been visible if she wouldn't have been so close to him. It was ugly, and twisted, just concealed by the dirty strap of his tank top.

She could_ feel_ the pain, could feel the breathe catch in her throat the more she stared at it.

"Hell's yer name woman?" She flinched, looking back at his face, hoping he hadn't noticed where her gaze had been lingering. But he was too busy to notice. He was looking at her, from the side as best he could, like he was appraising something. She felt a shiver run up her spine, but she didn't pull away.

She felt just a little annoyed that he hadn't remembered her _at all_.

"Back. Off. Merle." Daryl couldn't watch Merle, couldn't stand to see his brothers arm around _her_. There was this feeling in him, that gripped him hard. Something that possessed him. Merle's arm around Carol made his blood _burn_.

There weren't no way he was gonna stand by and watch him _handle_ her, like she was _his_.

Fuck if he was gonna let that shit fly.

Carol felt Merle stiffen at her side a little, his face hardening just enough for her to see. Suddenly the smile wasn't cocky, but hard. She could see the hairline anger simmering underneath.

"That's the second time today you've had that shit pointed at ma back, little brother." He kept his arm looped around her, his hand gripping her shoulder tight, but he looked back behind him.

"Startin' ta wonder if I ain't got some big ass target painted on me," he said chuckling, trying to make light of something. But she didn't miss what he'd said. The _second_ time that day.

She turned to look back, and found Daryl pointing his crossbow at Merle's back, his face a contorted mess of anger, and hatred, and _fear_. Her eyes widened, and she couldn't breathe right. The image of Daryl, his crossbow pointed so threateningly at Merle, didn't seem like a good idea but felt _right _too.

"Daryl," Rick said, reaching out a hand. But Daryl only stepped forward, jabbing the crossbow into Merle's back.

"Let her go Merle," he growled out, eyes flicking between her and Merle. He was panicking.

She didn't think she'd ever seen that look in his eyes before. _Panic_.

Like he wasn't sure of what was going to happen. Like he wouldn't know what to do if something happened.

What _would_ happen? Would Merle really take that chance and ruin this? She may have thought many things about Merle, but she'd never thought he would have _hurt_ her.

But now that she watched Daryl, his actions, that _fear _on his face, she suddenly felt unsure. The doubt rose up, began to eat at her. Daryl was taking a huge gamble, using force on Merle like that. There was so much tension between them, she felt like Michonne could come in and cut it with her sword.

But it was the sound of the walkers moans, growing louder around them, that cleared it up.

"Let's get back inside," Maggie said gently, eyes on the walkers slowly advancing on them.

Merle's arm tightened around her, his grip suddenly too tight.

"Why don't you show me the place?" he asked, leaning into her, eyes glinting mischievously. She swallowed hard as the weight of his body started to make her feel trapped.

Started to make her feel like she had nowhere left to go.

"Why don't you take your hands off me," she said as her voice cracked, meeting his blue eyes, the same blue as Daryl's and holding them firmly, "and we can see about that."

Merle couldn't believe the broad, this _mousey_ bitch talkin' to him like that. Woman had some fuckin' balls on her. He could see it in her eyes, that spark of a challenge in them. He _liked _that. Liked that she wasn't afraid to stand up to old Merle. Least somebody wasn't gonna put up with his shit. Least somebody was gonna give him some _fun_.

And he didn't miss the way Daryl wouldn't stop looking at her, like she was some kinda holy shit. Little brother probably had some goddamn pussy-ass feelings for the bitch. Just like Daryl to go an' get himself a girlfriend while he was gone. Never had no woman before, never _wanted_ no woman before, and now?

Now he couldn't keep his damn eyes to hisself. Couldn't hide the fear and anger from his face neither. And he knew Daryl weren't never scared of him before. But he could be scared of him for _her_.

He was gonna remember that.

They stared each other down for a moment before he laughed and pulled his arm from around her. She didn't miss the way his eyes narrowed for a fraction, the way they flicked back to Daryl.

"Well, why didn't ya just say so!" She could see Daryl lower the crossbow, just barely, as he watched her. His arms were flexed, strained as he tried to control himself.

This was a Daryl she hadn't seen since the days at the farm, when he wouldn't let anyone in.

The lone wolf.

She didn't want to see him go back to that. He deserved _better_ than that.

If anything, they were a pack now. They stuck together, took care of each other. _She _would take care of him. Merle was the rabid. Merle was the only one who didn't belong.

Daryl only needed to _see_ that.

"We can talk _later_," Michonne said evenly, her lips tight, and she turned around taking off for the prison. She took out three walkers around her, not even waiting to see if the others followed her.

Maggie gave Glenn a look, and took off, following behind Michonne. She drove her knife into the heads of two walkers, running to catch up with her. Glenn took one last fleeting glance back at Merle, his lip curling up, before he dashed after Maggie.

Carol watched them go, as Rick's eyes found Carl. He reached out, and pulled him into his arms. Carl buried his face into his father's side, quickly, pulling him tight against him, before pushing away just as fast.

"We should go dad," he said gruffly, taking a hesitant step toward the prison. Carl's eyes sought her out, and he smiled a little.

She placed her hand on Rick's arm, and squeezed gently. "He's right," she said, trying to breathe again, trying to make sense of the thoughts that she couldn't hold onto. "We're just putting ourselves in danger out here."

Rick nodded and looked around, the walkers still around them. He found Daryl, held his gaze, before he shifted to Merle.

"There'll be conditions," he said roughly, moving for the gate, Carl following him.

She looked back, _finally_, and their eyes met. And her chest deflated, like she could breathe again. It didn't matter that he looked exhausted, beaten. Ready to give up. It didn't matter if he avoided her gaze. All that mattered was that it was them.

If she ignored Merle.

She stepped toward him, away from Merle, and tilted her head towards him. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but could feel Merle's eyes on her, distinct.

"Are you…okay?" She asked hesitantly, hoping he would understand the weight of her question. He avoided her gaze, kept his head down. He shifted on his feet and pulled the strap of the crossbow further across his chest.

Daryl didn't like the way she'd focused on him, didn't like the way she didn't follow the others back to the prison. Never mind the fact that the walkers were right fucking there, but so was Merle. And she had that look, like she wanted to ask him about his damn feelings.

He couldn't do that shit now, not while Merle was right fucking there.

And then Merle came up behind him, clapping him across the shoulder, squeezing hard. "Hell you askin' that fer?" He looked between the two of them, but Carol never took her gaze from his. He watched her fingers twitch, her arm raise slightly toward him. He pulled his back, quickly.

"What ya think he is some goddamn pussy?" Merle leaned forward, leaning passed him, and into her face. He stiffened. Did he pull Merle back, single Carol out? Or did let this continue, let her face the _mild_ side of Merle, and get off easy?

Fuck he didn't want _neither_.

Carol didn't back away, didn't let Merle scare her. Not after she'd seen Daryl's face. The scar glared out at her, prominent on his worn, weary body. She couldn't help that her eyes kept finding it, against everything that was telling her not too. His eyes hardened, growing dark. She felt the threat down to her toes.

"He's fuckin' _fine_." She didn't back away because she didn't want him to see her fear. But she was afraid. She was afraid of what Merle was going to do to Daryl now that he was here. She was afraid of _losing him. _

He turned to Daryl, the smile back on his face. "Ain't ya brother." Daryl glanced at her quickly, shame clear in his eyes as they grew distant, before he looked away just as quick.

"I'm _fine_," he murmured, and shrugged free of Merle, walking ahead of them. His shoulders were hunched, and his head down, but he still kept walking, his legs determined to get him far away.

"Listen here bitch," he growled, leaning down into her face again now that Daryl was out of ear-shot. He was surprised that Daryl had left him alone with the mousey bitch, who was probably his woman, though he wouldn't admit to that shit. But hell, now was his time to set shit straight. He weren't gonna let no woman treat his brother like some goddamn pussy.

His brother weren't no woman who needed coddlin'. They were _Dixons_. They didn't need _nothin_'.

"No _you _listen," she spat harshly, thrusting her finger in his chest. He looked down at her hand; eyes widened a fraction at her brazen gesture. He couldn't fuckin' believe it. The mouse was standing up to him. Telling him to _listen_. Hell, this was something fucking new. He'd never seen no woman like her before have the balls to stand up to him and tell him what the shit was.

"Daryl _belongs_ with us," she muttered lowly. _Belongs_. He was gettin' sick of hearing that fucking word. He was sick of it applying to everybody but _him_. He was a goddamn person too. Why wouldn't nobody see that?

"He's _ours_, and if you continue to _hurt_ him," she said, pushing herself further up on her toes, holding his gaze like a man, "I'll make sure you _pay_." And that got him. How the hell would some old bimbo like her make him _pay_? Like she could do shit about that? She think he was fuckin' stupid?

He was gettin' fuckin' tired of people assumin' he was just gonna roll over like some damn dog.

Hell, then the bitch goes an' looks like she's fuckin' scared of him, like she couldn't believe she'd gone and done the shit either. And _that _was fucking funny.

He reeled back, and couldn't help the laugh that slipped passed him. Bitch was crazy thinkin' she could take on _this_ Dixon.

But you had to be crazy to be with a Dixon. Maybe little brother had done right pickin' this one. Hell, if he looked at her good, she weren't _that _bad to look at. Decent enough tits, if she'd lose the fuckin' shirt. Nice set of legs on her. Bitch even had a good enough lookin' face. Shit if she didn't want Daryl, there was always _another_ Dixon.

He liked'em fiesty.

"Fuck, you got guts woman!" Carol felt the heat rise to her face, and she dropped back to her heels, her head dropping back.

Embarrassment consumed her, and she wanted to take flight. Wanted the earth to _swallow her whole_. She looked away, her eyes finding Daryl suddenly. He was approaching them fast, his face filled with concern, the crossbow raised again.

"Though, did ya mean to say he's _yers_ darlin'?" Merle whispered, suddenly close to her again, his hot breath washing across her face.

Carol flinched, backing up two steps. She almost tripped over her feet, but caught herself before she did. She could see the cruel humor in his eyes, his twisted smile, and that hurt her.

Hurt her at the same time that it renewed her anger.

He must have seen the way she looked at Daryl, the way she had reached out to him, as if they _weren't_ just friends.

"Glenn's right you know," she said loudly, her voice coming out cross, "we can still leave you out here." Merle's eyes sparked, and he pulled her toward him again, this time with the metal arm. She flinched, unsure of the contraption, as it rested against her chest.

Merle's roaring laughter echoed around her, the oddest thing she'd ever heard. "I like this one brother," he said loudly, and she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Daryl stormed toward them, the crossbow shifting higher in his hands. She felt her lips tilt, just at the corner. But she didn't feel the threat then, from Merle. She was only curious.

"You're not what I expected," she admitted, looking up passed his haggard cheek, into his blue eyes. And this time, she caught the flecks of gray buried in them.

Caught the sorrow.

"Neither are you," he said quietly, easing up his grip around her shoulders.

And for a moment, she felt safe, wrapped under his arm, the metal resting softly against her heart.

* * *

**A/N**: So yeah, Merle and Carol different. Initially only one more chapter is planned...but you know me, and my plans. They can get shit out the window. So maybe two. For everyone who_ has _reviewed, I truly do appreciate it, _love _it really.

_Your reviews would mean the world to me. _


	3. Damaged

**Nox: **Shit, you guys are amazing. Didn't think you'd like that last chapter as much as you all did, but hell. I'm glad ya did. Carol and Merle, well, they attacked me again. Reviews, my loves? You made my fucking Saturday _amazing_ with the last ones.

**Disclaimer: **The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC. I borrowed things.

* * *

Damaged

These motherfuckers thought he was gonna roll over, take that shit in the ass like some faggot.

He had to laugh.

He weren't no fag, but hell, he could play_ nice_ when had too. So maybe he could let that Chinese asshole frisk him down. Like he had a goddamn weapon on him anyway. He had his fucking arm right there, the dumb shits.

Didn't _need _no fucking gun.

But the little bastard went behind him, with that shit ass grin on his face and kicked him to his knees.

He grit his teeth, from the pain that shot through his legs, and from the little pricks move. Nobody put Merle Dixon on his fuckin' knees.

He caught Daryl's gaze, lip curled. Little brother couldn't hold his gaze though. Had to look away, toward his little fucking _girlfriend_.

Fucking pussy.

Even if he _did _find the mousey bitch interesting.

Still, weren't it just like that, comin' in here and all he had was his fucking self. _Again. _That's how it always was, what it always came down too. Always fuckin' Merle, by himself.

That was why he left. Why he'd _abandoned_ Daryl. Weren't nothin' left for him at that goddamn house. Weren't nobody there for him. Not even Daryl had wanted him. Not even his own little brother. Daryl could deny that shit all he wanted, but now, who was he fuckin' kidding? Not after that shit in the woods. Not after he'd seen those scars.

And fuck, now he _wanted_ to kill that sonuvabitch. He hadn't lied to Daryl. If he'd had to spend one more fuckin' minute there, in that fuckin' house, he'd a skinned the ol' man alive. But he couldn't do that, couldn't take that away. Couldn't have that on his fucking shoulders. No matter how much he may a hated his ol' man, he still, in some fucked up twisted joke, _loved_ him. Loved him, hated him.

There weren't no god out there. Not when he was lovin' the one person who wouldn't never love him _back_, the only person on the fucking planet who'd almost killed him.

So when Chinaman found the gun in his pants, pulled it out with a satisfied fucking grunt, he didn't put up no fight. Just because he had his fucking arm didn't mean he hadn't _wanted _the gun.

Hell, all he had left in the whole goddamn world was Daryl. And he was even starting to question that fucking loyalty. But he still weren't gonna put up no fight. Daryl wanted in this goddamn clinker, and he was goin' with him.

Shit, he'd been in so many after he'd left the Marines he knew them like he knew his own dick.

He knew'em _real good_.

So Daryl and that mouse watched them cart his ass up the steps to the second floor of cells, like keeping him away from them was gonna make any goddamn difference. Dumbasses either didn't know, or were too stupid to remember that shit carried in a metal box.

He had to laugh at the fuckin' idiots.

Carol didn't like the way Glenn had treated Merle, but at the same time she knew it was justified in his eyes. After all the things Merle had inadvertently done to the group, she suspected Glenn wanted to do a whole lot more to Merle.

But there was something in the way Merle just _let _him to do it, in the way he allowed his body to be searched like it wasn't his. She watched his eyes, and she couldn't help but notice the battle taking place inside him.

She couldn't even imagine how much he must have wanted to let Glenn have it for doing that. But he just kneeled there, let him do it.

It made her wonder just what he wanted, in coming here. What did he gain, following Daryl back to the prison, back to _them_, just to be subjected to this humiliation?

Did he really care for Daryl like she was beginning to wonder?

And Daryl. She was conflicted about what to do. He'd been unusually silent as they dealt with Merle standing in the background, his head bowed to the ground, eyes avoiding Merle.

She _hated_ that.

"Look, while the group's here, we need to talk," Glenn called, drawing everyone's attention. Daryl didn't look like he cared, chewing on his nail. That was a habit she hadn't seen in a long time.

She clenched her fists.

"We need food, supplies," he stressed, looking around at the men, first at Hershel like he was stating his dominance. Then at Daryl like he needed his strength. And then finally at Rick, like it was a courtesy. She was starting to wonder just when Glenn thought he had become _leader _of this group.

"With Merle round," he said carefully, keeping his eye on Daryl, "we lose more food, supplies." She liked Glenn, knew how much he contributed to the group. But it was _Rick_ who had gotten them this far, safely.

There shouldn't have been any doubt about that, no matter what condition Rick was in. And Glenn should have had his back, should have been helping him come back to the man he used to be.

He looked squarely at Rick, a determined look on his face. "And if he gets to keep his gun," he said tightly, drawing Daryl's gaze back to him, "then we lose more ammo too."

Rick looked at each of the men, eyes dancing in his face. There was so much confusion there, and she felt so sorry for him.

He was floundering, lost. She'd noticed it, since Lori had been gone. Too much stress on his body. He needed someone to support him, like Lori had always done. He needed someone to help share the load.

"Why don't we focus on making sure everyone is okay first," she said, stepping forward.

Daryl was starting think he needed to get used to this Carol. The one who spoke her fucking mind. Started to think he shouldn't be surprised no more by it. Course, she'd always given _him_ a piece a her goddamn mind but that was different.

_They_ were different.

He was gonna have to watch it and make sure Merle didn't notice that. He hoped Merle hadn't _already_ noticed that.

He glanced up at the cell. He was gonna have to stick close to Merle. Even if that meant goin' into one a _those_.

Carol didn't miss the way Daryl's eyes glanced up at Merle's cell, or the way Glenn wasn't able to stop the glare pointed at her. But he backed off. Must have sensed her feelings on the matter. She didn't want to cause any resentment between them, because he was a good kid, and she liked him immensely. But he was going at this too strong.

And if she was honest with herself, she wanted the men to have a moment to rest.

She wanted to give Daryl the time to _breath_.

Hershel nodded. "It's a good idea," he said slowly, "_both_ of them." He looked to Glenn, eyed him, trying to pacify him.

"But Carol's right," he said looking over at Rick first, and then Daryl. "You boys need to rest. At least for a few hours. Let me tend to your wounds." She felt like she could breathe again with Hershel on her side.

Rick nodded, glancing between them all. But he said nothing and left. Not a word spoken.

That worried her.

Daryl wasn't sure he needed a moment to fucking rest, but hell if he was gonna say anything. He just wanted all a them to stop fucking _staring _at him, like he had two goddamn heads or some shit.

"You need me," he said quietly, and moving away from the rest of them, "I'll be up with Merle." And he nodded his head up toward the cell where Merle was placed.

He took a breath, drew it in deep because he was gonna need it, brushed passed Carol without looking at her. Coz if he did, he might not have the strength to do it.

Carol thought to stop him, but didn't. Let him pass, his shoulder brushing hers. He walked up the stairs, passed Jude's make-shift baby bed, passed his perch with the belongings he'd left behind. He didn't even spare it a second glance.

He just kept going down the walkway toward the cell Merle had been thrust into.

And he turned into the one _next _to it.

She was stunned. Since the moment they'd entered the prison she'd seen the way he'd shifted nervously in the prison, the way he avoided the cells like they were poison. He'd chosen the perch for a reason, though she couldn't have been sure of that reason herself.

She accepted it, just as they all did, that the perch was _his_. That he wasn't taking a prison cell for his home. There wasn't a question as to why. Nobody looked twice as he set his stuff up, haphazardly all about the nook.

Because it wasn't hard to see that the confined space of the cell made him nervous. That even being in the prison _period_ set him on edge. She was starting to wonder if that had something to do with his past. With Merle.

But _now_?

Now he was willingly walking into a prison cell, the one directly beside Merle's.

There was more wrong there than she had thought possible.

Hershel sighed. "I'll see to him, if he's got any injuries." She nodded gratefully, her chest tightened painfully.

Everyone was gone then. Dispersed. And she was left alone.

And her thoughts slammed into her. Heat flooded her body, and she moved into the cell she occupied, alone now, sitting heavily on the bed.

"I'm such a _fool_," she muttered, as her stomach twisted. She buried her face in her hands. She'd stood up to Merle Dixon. She'd fought for what was hers.

She gasped. _Not mine._

She couldn't believe her own audacity. What had she been thinking?

She hadn't. That was the problem. And now, her actions were going to hurt them, hurt them _both_. It was a good thing they'd confined him to a cell.

A desperate laugh escaped her.

Who was she fooling? She'd fallen under that same Dixon spell. Somehow, she understood just what Daryl couldn't escape from. She could _see_ just why Daryl couldn't let Merle go.

Despite his obvious shortcomings there was something there, hidden underneath, deep in the well of sin that was Merle Dixon.

He was still human. Just a man. Somewhere, she had seen in his eyes that he had come there _for _Daryl. Maybe that wasn't the entire reason, but she couldn't deny, and neither could he that Daryl was one of the reasons why he was here.

And Daryl seemed so lost. It was a dangerous combination when you had a man like Merle, who could sway you into that complacency. Because one moment he has you believing he's got your best interests at heart. And then the next he's got your face in the dirt, spitting on you, treating you like your nothing but the shit beneath his foot.

She knew men like that. Had lived with one her entire life. The only problem was that Merle did have a twisted sense of love for Daryl, could see that in the way he looked at Daryl. In the way he'd looked at _her_. Daryl was family. Whatever they had been through, as family, as _brothers_, had made them this way.

And what was she supposed to do about that?

How did she get Daryl to see that? How did she make Daryl see just who Merle really was? How did she force them apart, when even she _herself_ had second thoughts?

"Carol," she jerked, the sound of Beth's voice intruding her. Beth entered the cell a little, where she had been silently interrogating her own thoughts.

She looked up; tried to wipe away the emotions she knew must have been on her face. She didn't need anyone to worry over her, let alone know what she was upset over.

"Yes Beth," she answered, forcing the smile to her face.

"Daddy needs your help with Daryl," Beth responded sweetly and walked away before she could ask any further into it. She wanted to go to him, wanted to make sure he was okay.

But she was afraid to.

Afraid to see him not as the man she knew he was.

She stood, knowing that Daryl needed her for whatever reasons, and that she had to go. She passed Carl who was waiting outside of Rick's cell, where he was discussing something with Glenn. She didn't even care to be a part of that anymore. She was done trying to be the neutral party in this party of dictators. If it came down to something she didn't like, she would give them hell for it.

But it was walking passed the perch, seeing the discarded things Daryl had left behind that crushed her. The feeling it left her, seeing what was left of his life so easily forgotten, had her feeling like a hole had opened up in her chest.

It was like he was already abandoning his life with them. And that hurt her so deep.

"There anything you need me to look at?" She stopped, caught by the sound of Hershel's voice. He was closer, in a different cell than before. Not down the walkway, not where Daryl had been. _Right here_.

"Fuckin' fine Doc," Merle said snidely. "You wanna look at somethin', take a look out the window. Grab a fuckin' gun. Get a better set a _legs_." She almost stormed into the cell to give Merle a piece of her mind talking to Hershel like that.

"We're safe here. Between all of us-" Merle scoffed. She leaned in closer to the cell, keeping her body hidden.

"Oh that's just _peachy_," he cracked. She peered around the corner of the wall, and found Hershel sitting side-by-side with Merle, his button-up discarded at his side.

"Governor's gonna find ya," he whispered ruthlessly, getting in Hershel's face, shaking his head.

"When the Governor returns," he said hoarsely, confidently, like he knew exactly what was going to happen, "he's gon kill me first. Michonne, my brother. Then yer girls, Glenn, Carl, the baby. Whoever else is left. He'll save Rick for last. So he can watch his family and friends die ugly. That's who your dealin' with."

Merle couldn't believe who he was dealin' with. These people were fuckin' _stupid_. Thinkin' they was _safe_ here. Thinkin' they knew the Governor. They didn't know shit. And if that last fuckin' attack didn't scare them, then they deserved to fuckin' die.

And he'd let'em. Weren't none a his fuckin' business who lived and who died. Daryl was his only fuckin' problem now.

Goddamn idiots wanted to lock him up like he'd done sum shit yet here the doc was, lookin' to patch him up.

Fuckin' sentimental ass shit. No wonder they was always dyin'. No wonder his brother was always jumpin' the gun to be savin' people's asses. Musta been savin' these motherfuckers all the time.

"Can't believe my brother's been stuck with you hopeless shits all this time. Hell, he's prob'ly the one doin' all the fuckin' work."

Carol wasn't going to let Merle sit there and degrade the group, like he knew who they were. Daryl had chosen to stay with them, had chosen to come _back _to them. Those were his choices.

And to hell if she let Merle think otherwise, as if those decisions were _wrong_.

"Don't think," she ground out from between her teeth, entering the cell, "that we all haven't been there for Daryl, like he has for us." Merle looked shocked for a brief second as she entered, but it was gone just as fast.

"Carol, I don't think that's a good idea," Hershel warned her. She ignored him, advancing on Merle, leaning down into his face.

"Daryl made the choice to come back to _us_," she said fiercely. And she knew she'd hit a soft spot as his eyes narrowed, growing dimmer.

Merle couldn't believe the bitch. That was _his_ brother she was talkin' bout. His family. Not theirs.

To hell if they knew _shit_ about him.

"You think ya know ma brother," he asked, rising to his feet, challenging her. She thought she could taunt him, piss him off with her little cracks. Fuck, two could play that game.

"Merle," Hershel barked, rising to his crutches. Merle spun on him, threatening. "Ya better git the fuck outta here ol' man," he said real soft.

Hershel glanced at Carol, his eyes never wavering from hers. But she nodded at him. "Are you sure?" He asked, doubt clear in his voice.

"I'll be fine Hershel," she said quietly. But she wasn't watching the ol' man anymore. She was watchin' him. Hell if the woman didn't have the fuckin' balls.

The ol' doc hopped his ass out of the cell, kept lookin' back, but the woman never stopped lookin' at him.

But balls or no, she'd done it now.

"Ya don't know ma brother," he spat. She stood there, solid, unmoving. She never looked away, and that fuckin' unnerved him.

"Bet ya don't know why ma brother is the way he is," and he couldn't resist gettin' in her face, meeting those sweet, soft blue eyes a hers. She looked scared _now_. Got his blood boilin'. He loved the way her eyes looked, wide against her face. She didn't know what they'd been through, what their ol' fuckin' man had put them through. That was _their_ pain. That was _their _suffering.

"Bet ya don't why he's never let ya touch him," he whispered cruelly to her face.

But this time she didn't flinch, never let go a his gaze. She lowered her chin, looked like she was ready to walk away this time. It didn't have the effect he'd wanted. That pissed him off.

"I've seen them," she whispered softly, so soft he almost hadn't heard it. But he _did _hear them. He heard her just fuckin' fine. And if he she said what she meant, fuck. What the fuck did she fucking _mean_?

"The fuck," he spat back, eyes narrowing dangerously, "you mean?" She backed up, that spark of fear suddenly in her eyes again, and he didn't back down. He pushed her till her back was against the wall.

He brought his arms up around her, caging her in. He could see her throat work, the flesh there tender, as she swallowed hard.

"The scars," she whispered, her breath washin' across his face, blue eyes searching his.

The fuckin' scars. The _fucking _scars.

How was it that this fucking mousey bitch saw the scars and he hadn't? Hell, that one fuckin' thing meant she'd seen'em, or touched'em, or fuck knows what. But the bitch _knew_. Knew an' _he_ hadn't. His brother had let some god damn _woman_ see the ugliest things they'd ever have to bear, at the hands of their _ol' man_, an' he went an' let some woman see them?

Not him, not his family, his _brother_.

It was like some goddamn cosmic joke.

And he couldn't help but fucking laugh about it.

"Of _course_ it fucking is," he muttered, his head dipping.

She was shaking. Her ankles, her legs, her shoulders. Even her hands, hanging at her sides. Everything was screaming at her to _run_. But was it the threat of Merle's arms caging her against his body? Or was it because of the emotion clear across his face that told her everything she needed to know about him? The feelings of sorrow, grief, hatred, _pain_ that jumped across his features like a running reel. That told her just what had happened to _Merle_ as well. Told her that while Daryl had been marked by the pain of his past, so too had Merle.

She couldn't decide which.

He slowly dropped his arms, pulling away from her.

"Git the fuck out," he murmured, turning away from her.

She stood frozen, unsure of what to do. She took a hesitant step toward him, not really sure what she meant to do, but thinking he was like Daryl in that moment. Thinking she could do _something_ for him.

"I said git the fuck out!" he barked, smacking her outstretched hand away.

She nursed her hand, watching as he sat at the only chair in the cell, hunched over his legs. A defeated look she never thought she would see on him.

No matter what she thought of him, no matter how _bad_ she may have thought he was for Daryl, she couldn't deny the ache in her heart.

She stepped forward, cautiously, and placed her hand on his back.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the slap, the punch, _anything_. But he didn't even flinch. When she opened her eyes he was still sitting there, still hunched over himself, his head buried in his hands.

And she wanted to cry.

For the defeat set in his shoulders. For the pain she could feel from the ripples along his back. For the mottled, twisted marks that rose against his back.

_His_ scars.

Broken, damaged people. That's what they were. It didn't matter how each of them had gotten there. Didn't matter what they did, or _didn't _do to deserve them. All that mattered was what they had become _because_ of them.

And Merle had become something different, someone twisted, and cruel.

She hated that she thought that, hated that someone had made him that way. But that was what he had become.

And she wasn't going to let Daryl suffer because of that. Not anymore.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, letting her hand slide along his back, away, as she turned and walked out of the cell.

She was sorry he had become this. Sorry for the life he had had to suffer. Sorry that he and Daryl would never find the salvation that he wanted them too.

He was a damaged man. But that didn't excuse what he'd made Daryl suffer through. Didn't excuse that he'd made Daryl a damaged man as well.

Didn't help that all she wanted to do was turn back around, and wrap her arms around his shoulders, holding him close.

But she only had room for one damaged man in her heart, and he wasn't in this cell.

She didn't look back, even when she heard the scuff of the chairs feet on the floor.

She was sorry that she would never let Merle near Daryl again. They would only damage each other, hurt each other. And she couldn't let that happen to Daryl.

She felt the tears slide down her cheeks, quiet, unchecked.

She was truly sorry.

* * *

**A/N**: Oh you guys. I think ya'll knew there would another chapter, haha. But only one!

_Your reviews would mean the world to me. _


	4. Sacrifice

**Nox: **The new episode is tonight and I _pushed_ to get this finished before then. Because I had things I wanted to happen my way, and I know the show will fuck my Muse when I watch it. I figure most of you will read this _after_ the new episode, but hell. I would too. Thank you for being here, all this way. Also, my _Caryl_ feelings carried me away, drowned me. Don't fault me for it. I hope ya'll will still review.

_Those really do make me the happiest woman on the planet. _

**Disclaimer**: The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.

* * *

Sacrifice

"You sure you don't want me to take a look at ya son?" He grunted, eyes never fully meeting the vets. He was grateful the ol' man had come to check on him, but he didn't need nothin'.

Didn't need him seein' the marks on his back.

"_I said git the fuck out!" _He jerked, feet falling from the bunk. Hershel quickly rose to his feet, hobbling to the open cell door.

He stood up, hesitantly. That was fuckin' Merle. He knew that voice, knew the sound a that rage.

Knew the sound a that _pain_.

"Who the fucks Merle gettin' into it with now?" Hershel didn't turn, didn't answer him. Just stood there, lookin' down the walkway, eyes shifting nervously.

He didn't like that, didn't like the way it made him feel. Made him nervous all of a sudden. Merle was supposed to be locked in some damn cage. Nobody was supposed to be seein' him.

"Fuckin' answer me ol' man," he said, steppin' toward him. He hated it when they did that. Acted like they couldn't tell him shit. As if he were some damn scared animal or somethin'. He could handle his shit, even if it was Merle.

Hershel glanced back as he stepped out of the cell, approached someone.

"Are you alright?" He shifted to get a better view a who it was, and blanched.

_Carol_.

She nodded, eyes cast downward. She looked…hell she looked fucked up. Like she was gonna cry or some shit. Hell he couldn't take that right now.

"Is he still…" She didn't finish, just looked up, met his gaze. He knew that look. The one that she talked to him with. She needed to see him, needed to talk to him. Whether he wanted her to or not.

Hershel shook his head, and gripped her shoulder.

"It's fine. I'll see him anyway." And there it was again. The confidence in herself, that backbone he was just startin' to realize wasn't goin' away. He was damn proud to see that but it didn't mean he wanted to know it up close and personal.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, leanin' in close. She dipped her head, lookin' away from him. He caught her glancing in his direction.

"I'll be fine," she whispered, uncertainly.

Would she be fine? She'd left Merle, alone, in that cell. Everything inside of her had screamed to go back, to comfort him. She wanted him to know that despite everything he had ever done, she did _care_.

But she _couldn't_. She just couldn't.

Not when the man who came first in heart, was sitting right there in that prison cell, looking as if the world had swallowed him whole.

Hershel seemed to sense this, and hobbled passed her, squeezing her shoulder along the way.

She took a deep breath, and walked in.

She didn't like the cell. Didn't like the way he looked in it. He was like a wild animal, scared, caged, _broken_. He didn't _fit_ in there. He didn't belong in there.

"Daryl," she said hesitantly, stepping into the cell slowly. She didn't want to scare him, but there was something wrong. His eyes narrowed, and he approached her, gripped her wrist tight and pulled her all the way in.

The feel of his fingers, wrapped tightly around her wrist, took the breath right out of her.

"The hell was that all about?" She had to try to breathe right first. They hadn't touched, not since he'd left. And it was like all the emotions were bubbling up inside of her, fighting to get out. He didn't come back, Axel's blood on her face, fighting to _live, _fighting just for the one last chance to see him again, _seeing _him again, saving him.

Saving him.

_Merle_.

She reigned them in, the emotions. He must have seen the turmoil on her face though, because he released her and backed up. He turned, ran a hand through his filthy hair and started to pace.

"_You_ were the one Merle was gettin' all worked up over, weren't ya?" But she couldn't process the words, couldn't breathe again. Because now, she could see it.

_The scars_.

His shirt was ripped open, flapping against his backside. Like someone had purposefully torn it open.

And he was laid bare to the world around him, his pain for everyone to see. She hadn't seen it before because he'd kept his bag on his shoulders, the _entire time_. Left it on while they interrogated Merle, while they talked, while he made his way to the cell. He never wanted any of them to see them.

She struggled to breath.

"Did he hurt you?" He growled at her, suddenly gripping her shoulders hard. She looked up, trying to focus on his blue eyes. He was worried about her. She could see that clearly.

She shook her head no, unable to speak.

He released her, turned and started pacing again.

He couldn't believe she'd been the one to be in there when he'd heard Merle screamin' like that. The hell did she think she was doin' in there? Tryin' to get herself killed?

Merle weren't no walk in the park. An' now that he was in some damn cell who knew what he was thinkin', what he was feelin'.

"Dammit Carol," he said hoarsely, rubbin' the back of his neck. "Can't just treat Merle like some regular-" He flinched, choked on his words, as her hand slid over the back of his shoulder, over the tats, between his shoulder blades.

He couldn't do nothin' but turn his head toward her, his back still facing her.

_Shit_.

And he'd forgotten. Forgot that he was still wearin' the fucked up shirt. Forgot that his back, the ugliest thing about him, was still there. Still open for the whole damn world to see.

He watched as her eyes followed her fingers, as they trailed down his back, light as a feather. He felt his skin shiver, as her fingers danced over him, so soft and gentle. He knew she was touching each and every scar, knew just which ones she lingered on. He knew because he knew where each and every one was, when the ol' man had given it to him, and how much it had _hurt_.

How much he had begged in his mind for Merle to be there.

He wanted to run, wanted to scream at her, to hide his head in the dirt, wanted to burn her hand for ever thinking of touching him like that.

But he couldn't do nothin' at that look on her face.

He don't think he'd ever seen a look so calm, so tender on a woman's face before when they were touching him. Especially his scars.

"Want me to fix your shirt?" she whispered. And just like that, she was still Carol. Even while she was lookin' up at him with those eyes like she wanted to cry, and hug him, and talk about his damn feelings or hers. She knew _not _too.

What the hell was he supposed to do with a woman like her?

He cleared his throat. Hell if he ever admitted that he wanted to talk about it one day.

He pulled away, and sat on the bunk, leaning into the pillow heavily.

She wasn't sure what to do.

"Don't need none a yer help," he growled rather weakly. The way his head dipped lower, like he was trying to stop her from seeing his face made her anxious to see him all the more. Once she'd seen the shirt, seen his scars, she couldn't help but reach out. Couldn't help the need to touch them. She knew she shouldn't have.

Daryl had many things he kept private, his body one most importantly. She knew that, knew it like she knew Sophia was never comin' back.

But she'd seen, caught glimpses.

Of his _scars. _

And it had made her soul ache.

Made her hate the man who could ever do something so cruel to his _son_.

The first time she'd seen them she'd almost burst into tears. He hadn't known then that she'd seen them, and she was grateful for that. But that was only the first time. The second time, he'd caught her. Caught the way she couldn't help but stare. He hadn't talked to her for days after that. Avoided her like she had the plague.

But then it was like it was okay. Like he accepted that she was one who did. She knew she would never be able to touch them, that it would be his choice to allow her near them. But she never pitied him for them. Never thought they were ugly. Never thought that he was less of a man because of them.

And she wanted him to know that.

They made Daryl who he was, and she loved him for that. She _loved_ those scars.

"Don't want you talkin' to Merle again," he murmured weakly, like he was trying to tell her something behind the demand. She suspected it was more of a request - desperate, hopeful.

She slumped into the chair against the wall, felt her chest deflate.

"You neither," she whispered back. She watched his brows draw together sharply, the confusion hard on his face.

She was going to protect him, even if he hated her for it.

"He's ma brother." She sighed, knowing how hard it was going to be for him to hear this.

"He's your brother, but he's not good for you," she said back, finishing what she knew they both understood. And she could tell that he did.

It was the sadness in his face, the way his shoulders fell defeated. The way he fell silent, trying to avoid her gaze but not able to.

He _understood_. The fucked up part? He knew exactly what she was talkin' about. The way Merle had been actin' as they traveled through the woods, as _he _helped those people back on the bridge at Yellow Jacket River. Merle wasn't nothin' but trouble for him.

"But _he _still needs you. That's the problem, isn't it?" She turned away, staring out of the cell. She sighed heavily, her shoulders rising with the action.

"What are you supposed to do, with the people you love, when all they do is hurt you," she whispered to no one, closing her eyes suddenly.

She was right. He knew it, fuck if he didn't know how she did, but she was right. Woman was always right one way or the other. Woman was always treatin' him better than she should have. Woman was always right there, when he needed her.

"When they don't deserve it."

He looked up and met her gaze, and this time, he understood. He knew that she understood more than he gave her credit for.

"Carol, I-"

"Get back here!" She turned suddenly, Hershel's voice echoing out through the prison.

Man sounded _pissed_. He don't think he'd ever heard the man so pissed before. Not like this. He stood up, and left, finding his way to the railing, looking out at the scene below.

Rick was walking out, his shoulders set. Man looked like he was ready to _go_.

He looked like he was a lot of things these days, but he knew better than to judge a man who'd lost what Rick had.

Hershel hobbled over to him, slow and steady. And Rick waited, the room suddenly tense. He felt Carol come up next to him, her arm resting against his.

"And what?" Rick forced out, challenging the old man, his back still to him.

"And do something," Hershel spat back. Rick turned on him, glaring with that wild eyed look he'd been hanging onto.

Did he go down there, step in, do something? He felt a hand slide over his arm, squeezing.

"Look," she whispered. He followed her gaze, and _shit_. He couldn't believe it. There was Michonne, face unreadable.

"Christ," he muttered, and he leaned back. There was _Andrea_, standing at the entrance in front of Michonne, looking haggard, worn out, but most of all, smiling.

The group converged on her, their voices echoing in the prison, the previous tension now forgotten. Her eyes lit up, hands reaching out to grab hold of each one. First Maggie and Beth, then Glenn. They all started laughing.

He could see her face, searching out for others.

T-Dog, and Lori.

_Shane_.

Rick moved in, brought her into the fold of his arms, looking slightly uncomfortable as he did so.

He pushed her back, held her at arms-length and spoke to her. Her face fell, lips pursed. But she just kept nodding, like she accepted it.

He watched her look round again and her eyes landed on them. She smiled wide, and waved up. He nodded back, but Carol did nothing. He looked over, watched her face remain passive.

"What's wrong," he asked quietly.

She pursed her lips, a sliver of doubt shining in her eyes.

"I…" He nudged her arm. She found his eyes, looked scared.

"At the farm," she whispered, "I ran. Ran like the scared woman I used to be. I _left _her," she forced out. She dropped her head, breaking his gaze. He sighed. Just like her to be worried about something that happened so long ago.

He nudged her arm again. "She ain't gonna _blame_ you," he assured her. He nodded down to Andrea, waiting at the bottom, talking with the group. "Just go see her." She looked at his face but nodded. She still didn't look sure of herself but she turned and left anyway.

"I'll bring you a new shirt," she called back.

He laughed softly.

* * *

Carol was tired. They'd been sitting around, talking for hours now. Everyone wanted to get caught up with Andrea, but she could tell that Rick had other plans in mind. She could see the cogs in his mind turning.

Their leader had a plan. From the moment he'd laid eyes on Andrea something had started to move.

So it didn't surprise her when he finally interrupted them, sounding far more serious than he should have for a happier occasion.

"You all want me to do something," he remarked, rather harshly, eyes searching them all out. He saved Hershel for last, holding his gaze longest.

"Then I've got a plan." The tone of the group changed considerably, everyone hushed. Andrea leaned in close, looking anxious to be a part of what they all used to be.

Rick cleared his throat, laid a hand on his gun. She knew that stance. Seen it so many times over the past year. He'd done it to assure himself of his leadership, of his dominance.

He was so unsure of himself these days. So lost.

"Go ahead Rick," she called softly, "we're listening." He looked back, seeking her out in the evening glow. She nodded her head, pushing him forward.

He seemed to take a moment to gather his thoughts, and then he started talking.

"I want Andrea to go back to Woodbury." And everyone started yelling, no one bothering to stop and think about it. She wasn't sure where he wanted to go with it, but he must have had some idea of what he wanted or else he wouldn't have mentioned it.

She looked around at everyone, either yelling or arguing with each other, as Rick sat there and let them have at him. She didn't know what to do, felt so lost and then her eyes landed on Daryl.

They only shared a moment before he turned away and walked next to Rick.

"Shut up!" Everyone stopped, turning to look at Daryl. She couldn't help the swell of her chest at the way he stood up for Rick. At the way he directed the room. That made her proud.

"Why don't we listen to what he's got ta say 'fore we go dissin' what we don't even know?" The others looked at each other, some nodding, some heads hanging in shame. She could see Andrea watching Rick intently.

Was she pissed? Was she interested to hear what Rick had to say? Would she be willing to do whatever he suggested?

"I want Andrea to be our eyes on the Governor." Andrea looked down, dropping her eyes. She couldn't read her, couldn't tell what she was thinking.

But she knew what _she _was thinking. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she thought it was a good idea. Having a pair of eyes that they could trust inside of Woodbury, would be an advantage for them.

"He won't let me come back," she said, raising her chin. Rick turned to her confused.

"Whaddaya mean?" he asked, hands on his hips. Andrea looked around, taking in their faces.

"He told me that if I came here, that I shouldn't bother coming back." Rick shifted on his feet, rubbed the back of his head. He started pacing.

"But he _trusts _you." Andrea scoffed, shaking her head with a little smile on her face.

"He doesn't trust _anyone_." Rick looked even more lost now, the wild look coming back to his face.

"There must be something," he barked softly.

Carol sighed. This wasn't something she wanted to be a part of. She didn't want to decide Andrea's fate. She'd already been a part of that once, she wasn't going to do it again.

She stood up and grabbed some food, heading for the stairs. She felt a hand on her elbow.

She turned, caught his blue eyes focused on her.

"He needs to eat too," she said softly. He looked back at the group, still arguing.

"I'm comin' with ya," he said, gripping her arm harder. She just nodded and kept walking.

But he didn't enter the cell when she went in. Stood outside, guarding like a sentry. And Merle, he didn't turn as she entered. Just sat at that same chair, lounged back. He leaned his head back, looking at her upside down.

"I remember you now," he announced suddenly, like the light had just come on upstairs. She just set the food down on the floor at his side, didn't bother answering him.

"Yeah," he murmured, turning in the chair, grabbing her wrist before she could back away.

"You that woman, with the deadbeat husband, little girl," he said it in that tone that made her want to punch him in the face. And then he started laughing.

"What'd ya do?" he snarled, with that sideways look that suddenly made her want to _shoot_ him. Did he want to piss her off? "Git ma brother ta take care a him for ya? Or are ya stringin' him along while ya bed that no good-" he didn't even get to finish his sentence before Daryl's fists slammed against his jaw, sending him reeling.

The breath caught in her throat. She didn't know when he'd come into the cell, or how he'd done it so fast and quiet. She could do nothing but watch as Daryl landed another blow across his face before Merle was up, his face twisting into a snarl. He crouched, and beckoned Daryl to him.

Daryl pulled her behind him, shoulders tense.

"Bring it on brother," he whispered, the challenge heavy between them.

There was so much to that threat. She could see the weight of it, in his eyes. They'd been waiting for this moment for so long.

But she couldn't _let _them do this. This isn't what would help them. Wouldn't _save _them.

"Stop it," she whispered, laying a hand on his back. "It's not worth it." She went to his side, ignored the glaring look from Merle.

"The hell it ain't," Merle growled and lunged.

Daryl couldn't believe his fuckin' eyes. Carol stepped in-between them, facing off Merle like she weren't afraid a _nothin_'.

He watched Merle's arm move in slow motion, toward her face. His heart stopped, felt like he couldn't breathe. What the hell did she think she was gonna do, standing there in the way like that?

She couldn't take no hit from Merle.

He reached forward, his arm wrapped around her chest, and pulled her back. She tripped, and fell back against his chest, forcing the air from his lungs.

He gripped her tight, tighter than he probably should have as he watched Merle's swing go wide, missing them by an inch.

His blood was hot in his skin. He wanted to _kill _his brother right then.

Carol's hand fell across his arm, gently squeezing. He could feel her heart, beating fast against his arm. He looked down, into her blue eyes, and she shook her head.

"Let's just go," she whispered, her breath falling hot across his skin. He backed up, let her go. Needed to separate himself from her.

He nodded, agreeing to leave. Being there, with Merle, was just pissin' him off. And Carol was right. Merle weren't good for him.

"Hell you goin' little brother?" Merle called to his back. "Fuckin' pussy." He stepped out, his skin rippling with anger. He wanted to beat Merle, let him know just how pissed he was.

"That's right little brother, run with ya tail between ya legs," he called quietly, laughing at the end. He stopped, looking through the bars that separated them.

"An' you wonder why it's always you in there, an' me out here," he remarked.

He turned his back on Merle, walkin' away. But couldn't feel Carol at his back. He turned, saw her standing there, at the door to the cell.

"I…" she turned to Merle, conflicted.

"I need to talk to him, one last time." He grit his teeth, clenched his fists. After what she'd just seen, she wanted to stay there and _talk_ to Merle? Was she _stupid_?

"Please, trust me?" And how could he not trust her when she said it like that. He didn't want to leave her there, when Merle was pissed off, more than he was, but she'd asked. And he'd respect that.

He sighed and left, shooting Merle a glare as he did. He weren't gonna go _far_.

She waited until Daryl was out of ear-shot.

"Don't like the weaker brother, do ya sweetcheeks," he called sweetly, sauntering over to her.

"Leave," she said suddenly, looking up to meet his gaze. "Go back to Woodbury." He watched her for a moment, thinking. Anger flared across his face.

"Like some god damn traitor?" He barked, advancing on her. She was stunned for a moment.

"I ain't a Judas," he spat, "hell I'm a lot a things, but I ain't no goddamn traitor. I done a lot a things, but I'd _never_ betray ma brother. _Never_." He thrust his hand in her chest, eyes meeting hers harshly. She was surprised by the vehemence with which he defended himself. How he didn't, or _wouldn't_ betray Daryl. She felt her gut twist, at what she was going to ask.

She couldn't back away now.

"Go with Andrea," she said, her voice crackin, "go back to the Governor and be _our_ eyes. For once in your life, do something _for _Daryl." He froze, stunned silent. His eyes narrowed, arms crossing against his chest.

"You don't know _shit_ bout my life," he growled back. She took a step forward, meeting his challenge.

There were those fuckin' balls again. He was likin' this woman too much. Kept lettin' her talk like that to him, tried to avoid hittin' her coz he _didn't want _to. Damn was he gettin' soft.

"Help us take down the Governor for him. Help him save us," she pleaded. He looked deep into those blue eyes, looked hard at the woman that she was.

"You just want me away from ma brother." She looked away, cast her eyes to the floor. Least she had the nerve to look ashamed.

"And if I do?" she said, lifting her chin to meet his gaze again. He'd never met a woman who fought as hard as this one for what she fuckin' wanted. Hell, if that weren't a Dixon he didn't know what was.

But if he _left_, if he did what she asked. Shit. That was a whole 'nother can of shit he was openin'. But…

Maybe the woman was right.

"Then I'd have ta tell ya it'd be yer job from now on." She looked confused, face twisted.

He leaned down, bringin'em face to face. He wanted to make it crystal-fucking-clear to her just what he would do for that request. Needed her to know that he would do it, because he decided right then that he would. But she had to do somethin' for him in return. He didn't do shit for nothin'.

"I do this shit," he said harshly, "and its _yer_ job to look after ma brother." It took a minute, but then the confusion finally cleared up and her mouth dropped.

He reached out, tipped her chin up, closing her mouth. She was startled by his action.

"I do this, an' I'm leavin' ma brother in yer hands. I ain't gonna sacrifice maself fer nothin' just ta leave Daryl alone again." He broke her gaze this time, moved back.

He'd left Daryl too many times, to do it again for nothin'. If he did it this time, he'd do it for the right fuckin' reasons.

Carol watched him struggle, felt her own conflicting emotions deep inside. She'd never expected Merle to agree to something like this. But he _had_. There was a selfish part of her that was happy he had agreed. Now, he would leave. Leave Daryl for good, leave him to heal.

But she knew, deep down, that the constricting in her chest was because of the regret she heard in his voice for abandoning Daryl. This would hurt him too.

"Already left him once, and now," he stopped, started pacing before her, "there ain't no forgivin' me after this. _Ya git that_?" He stopped his pacing for a moment to look at her, to really hold her eyes with his.

That admission was so secret, so _sacred_, it was as if she shouldn't have heard it. This would be a sacrifice for Merle, to let Daryl go, to leave him. _Again_.

Because that was it, wasn't it? He'd abandoned Daryl, so many times, and she was asking him to do it just one more time. It would break them, would break _Daryl_. And she would be the cause of that.

And there was that uncertain chance that he would never come back, that he just might betray Daryl. What if he died when he went back to Woodbury? What if the Governor killed him and Andrea?

She dug her nails into her palms, drawing blood.

That would be her _pain_, her guilt to bear. She was the one who'd asked him to go back, for the group, for Daryl.

"Little brother already hates me fer leavin'im all those years ago." She looked at him again, left her thoughts alone.

"But you'll do it again, for him?" she asked softly, barely hoping to hear the answer. He stared at her, blue eyes hardening.

"Hell, what am I, some kind a monster?" She felt her lips tilt up, the sadness creeping over her. She'd just asked him to do the one thing he probably had never wanted to do again. And he was going to do it.

She stepped forward, reached up on her toes, and hesitated. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, but didn't move.

And she kissed him softly on the cheek.

"Thank you," she murmured softly, backing away and out the door before she could regret the action or he could repay her for it.

* * *

Through much deliberation the group, and Andrea finally agreed. They even came up with a pretty decent plan. She'd take a car, and drive back to the town, declare that she'd seen what the group had done, and wanted no part of it.

But what they didn't know was that Merle was going with her. She kept glancing back up at his open cell, waiting for him to make his appearance.

She couldn't stop her leg from shaking.

Daryl kept asking her what the hell was wrong, but she couldn't do anything but smile weakly at him. Her heart twisting each time he stared into her eyes.

Why was this so hard for her too? How was it that Merle had dug his way into her own heart?

"Carol," Andrea said, suddenly standing next to her. She turned, mind occupied by other things.

"I just wanted to say I'm glad you're okay." And she almost burst into tears. Through the winter months she had thought she had gotten Andrea killed and now, she was here telling _her _how glad she was that she was okay. It was so wrong.

She hugged her then, pulling her close. "I'm so sorry I left you," she whispered thickly against her hair. Andrea put her arms around her, squeezing back, laughing a little.

"I'm not," she said. "Got me here, didn't it?" She started laughing, the tears falling down her cheeks. She had missed Andrea.

"Hell, ya ain't leavin' without me are ya?" Merle stomped down the stairs, breaking apart her reunion with Andrea. Everyone turned, shock on their faces.

She wiped at her face, fear gripping her chest. This was it.

"The hell you mean," Daryl barked, storming over to him. Merle ignored him, brushing passed him quickly.

"So, we headin' out Blondie, or what?" He looked around like he'd been a part of the whole to begin with. She watched the confusion grow on everyone's face. Daryl approached him, the others stepping back. This was clearly Daryl's fight. No one was going to stop Merle from leaving, if that was his choice to make.

"Don't know what the hell yer talkin' bout Merle, but you ain't goin'-"

He punched him across the face, sending him to his feet. Carol ran to his side, not quite touching but hovering just behind him.

"You just stay put little brother. Stay and protect what's _yers_." Merle's eyes found hers, narrowing slightly. She got the message, knew what he meant. Merle had understood there was something different between her and Daryl. Knew it was different but not quite definable.

She swallowed hard. He'd understood more than she had thought he would.

"An' I'll protect what's mine." There was a moment, Daryl and Merle staring at each other, and she knew some kind of understanding passed between them.

"Merle!" He ignored him, just kept walking toward Andrea who waited, hesitantly, unsure.

"Are you sure Merle? I decided to go. Alone. No need to do this," she said, looking back at Daryl. Merle chuckled, clapping Andrea on the shoulder and steering her toward the exit.

"I make my own fuckin' choices, Blondie." He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing everyone in the prison. No one could look him in the eye. No one told him to stay.

"Yer fuckin' leavin' me _again_ Merle!" Daryl screamed, rising to his knees. Carol grabbed his arm gently, not sure if he would smack her away or not. Her heart twisted at his words, and she almost called Merle back, felt the regret hit her hard.

But he didn't do anything. Just kept watching Merle's back, his arm taut beneath her hand. He was trembling. She was trembling.

Merle was still leaving.

"Don't you leave brother!" Merle turned to him, that horrible cocky grin back on his face. It was like he was driving a knife straight through her heart.

"Ain't that what I do best?" And he walked out of the prison block, not looking back.

* * *

_Hold on in the darkness, hold on in the darkness lead me on my way. _  
_Lead me home, lead me home._


End file.
